


Skate Circles Around Me

by assassin_trifecta



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dante is almost ooc but not quite there yet, F/M, Fluff, Ice-Skating, Reader works at a bakery, Winter, look don't judge me on this okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9122926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassin_trifecta/pseuds/assassin_trifecta
Summary: You weren’t quite sure how this happened. Capulet City never really had any hot date spots besides the movie theater and a few restaurants, that you were aware of, but you hadn’t been living here as long as he had. Dante knew the city like the back of his hand and you were sure that he’d had enough women friends (though that didn’t scare you off of accepting his offer) to know where the prime spots in town were.Or, that time that Dante was too suave for his own good and expertly showed off skills that he shouldn't have.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based entirely off the Mission 15 cutscene in 4 where Dante skates way too expertly around Dagon's Rusalka. A friend brought it up to me that he's way too good in just his boots and could probably expertly ice-skate and honestly I just ran with it from there because who wouldn't, really?

                You’d been in Capulet for only a few weeks, returning to your home town after living elsewhere once your parents passed and left you the house that they had on the city limits. It wasn’t much, but it was the home that you had grown up in. But things had changed from when you were a child, and now you had to find a job in the city and make a living in a town that was practically alien to you. You couldn’t recall the last time that you’d been in Capulet. You’d been sent to live with your grandparents so that you could attend a rather prestigious academy through your middle and high school years and you’d taken a scholarship offer at a culinary school that was so far out of state you ended up just living in the city you went to school in. It was easier and more cost efficient that way, and though you kept in touch with your parents you hadn’t been back to Capulet permanently since you were twelve.

                Fifteen years later and you found yourself working diligently in a bakery in the city center. You had to admit that some of the changes were nice. Last you remember about this place it was a dilapidated, dying city. Crime rates were high and – you shuddered to think – demons were rampant. In the decade and a half that you were gone, it seemed to turn around, and now it was and almost kitschy tourist trap with vintage town-square design. The main street was lined with small shops and boutiques, some more visited than others. There were a few chain stores, a fast food place or two but it was prominently locally owned businesses, like the bakery you found your employ at. In the winter it seemed to be perpetually covered in snow, and the city officials had closed off and iced down part of the central park around the famous statue there to be an ice-skating rink.

                It had all started with a regular customer. He came into the bakery at least three times a week, getting a slice of the strawberry cake that you made yourself. The fruit was out of season and your manager had intended to take it off of the bakery selection for a time, but the customer’s returning presence and, much to your amusement, vocal objections to the idea kept it on the chalk board for a while longer. He came around more after that, and you were sure it started out as a simple desire for the cake before it went away but then it became something more. After he learned that it was your skill that made his favorite desert he started talking to you more, hanging around the bakery for longer after he finished off his treat. You didn’t think much of it at first but when he slipped you his signed receipt with a phone number, a name, and a winky face… You couldn’t help but send him a message once you got to your break.

 

> _[msg to: (555)787-5546]: Dante sounds like a really cool name for a guy that spends his time at a bakery eating strawberry cake._
> 
> **_[msg from: (555)787-5546]: I like to think Im a pretty cool guy._ **
> 
> _[msg to: Dante]: I don’t know if I believe that._
> 
> **_[msg from: Dante]: I can prove it to you_ **
> 
> _[msg to: Dante]: Is that a challenge?_
> 
> **_[msg from: Dante]: More like a date. Friday okay?_ **
> 
> _[msg to: Dante]: You know where I work. I get off at five._

That had been the last you heard from him. You were starting to wonder if Dante had forgotten you or was simply avoiding you after that. Friday was just around the bend and with no word from him you had taken to moping around the bakery. Your manager was lenient with it, though. There were few customers on weekdays, and although the holidays were lending to more business than usual the bakery was still considerably empty compared to the other shops on the main street.

                “Dante has a bit of a reputation,” Your manager remarked when she saw you wiping down the counter Friday afternoon with a sullen expression on your face. You’d brought a nicer sweater than usual to work and had even done your make-up and curled your hair (though you had to put it in a ponytail, it was still cute) in the hopes that your date would still be on. But with not a message from him, you figured that Dante would be a no-show for sure. But still, your manager was a kind woman and she placed her hand on your shoulder when she saw you and offered you a warming smile. “And he can be an ass, sometimes. Many a woman in this town owe him some scorn or another.”

                That was off-putting. You frowned at the older woman’s comment but offered her your thanks in return for her (not so) comforting words. Five rolled around and you were letting down your hair and pulling on your coat when you heard the bakery door bells ring.

                “I’m sorry, I’m on my way out but my manager will be with you in just a –“ You started your explanation, but your words caught in your throat when you saw him standing there.

                Silvery-white hair spotted with melting snow, pale cheeks reddened with the cold, and bundled up in a turtleneck sweater and scarf beneath his familiar red leather coat, Dante grinned at you. But that wasn’t all that was surprising about his sudden appearance. In a gloved hand he held aloft two pairs of ice skates by the laces, his blue eyes sparkled with the idea of the fun that the two of you could have.

                “Sorry I wasn’t able to call you or anything,” He started, lowering the hand that held the skates. “I had a pretty important job out of town and there wasn’t any cell service.” You’d heard all about what Dante did. For the city and abroad, he was a demon hunter. There were people in Capulet that were certainly skeptical about the jobs that he took, but with the things that you had seen in your youth, the things that you heard about in the news every week or so, it wasn’t hard for you to believe that ‘demon hunter’ was a pretty lucrative job title.

                “You could have sent me a letter.” You pouted, but the jest was clear in your voice. Dante laughed all the same, holding out his free hand for you to take.

                “Come on,” he started, grinning at you still with sparkling blue eyes and teeth that were almost a little too sharp. It would have been fearsome, you were sure, if you were anybody else. “I haven’t been on a real date in a while.”

                “Is that because of the reputation or the job?” You asked, grinning up at him cheekily. He rolled his icy eyes at you and held the door to the bakery open, though you were pleased to note that his smile never went away.

                You waved farewell to your manager as the two of you left, bundled up against the winter chill, and you could have sworn that you saw a smile on her face just before you turned around to go.

                Outside, the winter weather hit you full force despite your protective layering. Dante held you against his side as you walked together toward the town center, shielding you from most of the wind with his body mass. You were surprised that such a big guy like him was layered up so much against the cold, though. He seemed like the type of person that could wear shorts in the middle of December and brush it off with a laugh instead of frostbite.

                When he caught our inquisitive stare he raised a snowy eyebrow. “What?” He asked, though he didn’t seem affronted by your gaze.

                “Just wondering why you’re so layered. You didn’t seem like the turtleneck kind of guy.” You admit, shrugging. “The leather coat is really throwing me off, is all.”

                “I come from a pretty warm place, is all.” Dante laughed, and you could tell there was something else behind his words, but you didn’t press further. “Guess my body just never got used to the cold, is all.”

                But that was the end of that conversation, because the two of you were quickly approaching the town center and the reality of what Dante had in mind as a date was dawning on you. You stared at the rather large skating rink that the city had made in the center square, around the statue of the fabled knight Sparda. There were couples holding hands, children darting in between them, and even more children (and some adults, you found most amusing) stumbling and falling after their friends and partners. A few almost professional looking skaters drifted among them, never falling and never bumping into anyone else but doing spins that you couldn’t even imagine accomplishing.

                “Oh, no,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper above the wind and the sounds of merriment from the town center. “Oh, Dante, no, I can’t-“ You wanted to say that you couldn’t do this, that you couldn’t skate and hadn’t been skating in your entire life. You were almost a menace just standing in one place, but put two sharpened blades on the bottom of your feet? “I-“

                “Relax,” Dante smiled at you again and this time the sharp teeth and the shining eyes were all comfort and surprising warmth. “I got this.” He stated as the two of you sat down at a bench outside of the rink. Dante handed you a pair of skates that you were surprised fit you perfectly while he laced on his own. Yours looked pretty standard, light brown suede boots with a metal blade. Classic looking, almost. “I had to borrow a pair from one of my friends. She said she’s never worn them so they should be clean.” You glanced over at Dante as he laced his own boots – clunky looking things that were almost assuredly biker boots at some point with metal slapped onto the bottom almost haphazardly. He seemed at ease, surprisingly so, and you were shocked when you realized that he was a natural at this. He gave you a confident smirk as you quickly turned from staring at him to trying to lace up your own boots.

                “Here, do them like this.” Once he was finished with his own, Dante knelt down in front of the bench to assist you with yours and the intimacy of the moment with an almost-stranger was so alarming to you that you almost barked out a laugh.

                That was how you ended up there, struggling to stand once Dante had helped you lace up the skates and slowly guided you to your feet. Standing still was easier than you expected it to be and your ankles didn’t feel like they were going to give out any time soon, but as Dante walked away from you and you had to take your first steps towards the rink with your skates on you were immediately alarmed. You didn’t think you would end up like this – you still weren’t sure this entire date was happening and suddenly there was a weird part of your mind that considered _maybe this was a dream_? But Dante’s smile back at you and the way that he held out his hand to you when he reached the gate to the rink was too real, and you were positive that you were going to fall face first onto the pavement, if only out of sheer surprise.

                “I don’t know if I’m going to be okay,” you warned when you were close enough to take Dante’s hand and stagger into his hold. His arms were held protectively at your waist, but you were pleased – and surprised once again – to note that he wasn’t being entirely forward with you, just holding you up politely. “I’ve never done this before.” You admit, eyeing the ice behind him warily.

                “Don’t worry,” Dante remarked, and it sounded as nonchalant as the smile at one corner of his mouth looked. “Just hang onto me and you’ll be fine.”

                Whatever objections you had were lost as Dante glided backwards – to your horror – onto the ice, pulling you along by the waist as you clung to the lapels of his jacket. He glided almost effortlessly backwards while you struggled to even stumble forward with his help holding you. This seemed like something strange for him to be naturally good at and you wondered where a devil hunter might find time or inspiration to take up ice skating as a hobby.

                “Push out, sideways,” he told you, not bothering to watch as people moved out of the way behind him. It seemed to be both a result of his nonchalance and his sheer size (was he 6’4” or 6’5”, you wondered) that others got out of his way without him having to look over his shoulder to see where he was going. He moved through the crowd easily and smiled at you while doing so. “One at a time, so you keep your balance. Don’t worry,” he added, one corner of his mouth turning up into a mischievous smirk that worried you more than his words calmed you. “I won’t let go.”

                “You’d better not.” You warned, following his directions and the motions of the people around you that you hadn’t seen falling yet. You were starting to get the hang of it and able to straighten your spine just a fraction more when Dante spun around so that he could skate beside you, startling you into nearly losing your balance.

                But his arms were there again, holding you up and against his side that you were skating alongside each other. One arm behind your back so that his hand rested on your hip and his other hand holding onto the crook of your elbow in the strange fashion of a stroll in the park in 1953, Dante guided you around the first turn in the rink gently so that you could get used to it, chuckling at the panicked noises you made as you went.

                “There you go,” he laughed when you finished the turn and straightened up once again, comfortable in his hold while you moved together. You glared up at him but he only continued his careless smile. “You’ve got the hang of it now. So how about,” he added, leaning down so that he could whisper in your ear in the flirty fashion that you had expected of him after hearing about his reputation from your manager. “When we’re done here, you and I go back to my place? Warm cocoa, a cozy fire…?”

                “You have a fireplace?” You asked, surprised again. He just didn’t seem like the _type of guy_ for that, and the invitation was tempting despite the little time you’d spent together. Perhaps it could be a better way to get to know him?

                “No, but an electric blanket and the yule log channel should do the trick.” He winked at you and you spluttered at the hidden proposition, your cold cheeks warming and reddening from the embarrassment more than the biting cold against them. You managed to disentangle yourself from him in your embarrassment, pushing away so that you could skate a few feet ahead and hide the embarrassing tinge from him.

                Dante skated past you, turning again so that he could glide backwards once more and watch as the realization crossed your face and horror replace the embarrassment. You stumbled over the next few glides of your skates but when you righted yourself you looked up at him – still in front of you and grinning with the mischief that you had come to associate with him – with a heatless glare.

                “You let go!” you accused, and though your tone was wounded you couldn’t hold back the short bark of laughter that came with the shock of being able to skate on your own.

                “Nope, sorry dollface,” Dante grinned at you still, clasping his hands behind his back in a gesture of innocence (and proficiency in skating that you were still surprised at) that you thought he certainly didn’t possess. “You’re the one that let go of me.”

                And of course, he was right. You’d pulled away from him in your embarrassment, and as you skated forward to catch up again Dante spun once more so that he could take your hand. He didn’t support you this time, but simply glided along with you while others skated past.

                “Was that your plan all along?” You asked, looking up at him. “To get me to skate alone on my own terms?”

                “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dante feigned ignorance, whistling theatrically as he pretended to ignore your accusations. “All I did was invite you home with me.” He looked down at you and the smirk took its rightful place tugging up the corner of his lips. “The offer still stands. Unless, of course,” and for only a brief moment – so quick that you almost didn’t catch it – worry replaced the cool devil hunter’s expression. “You don’t want to?”

                “No!” You objected, skidding to a halt and pressing closer to him so that people could easily dodge around the two of you. “I mean – I want to,” you shook your head, clearing up your thoughts so that you could give him the right answer. You smiled up at him, watching snowflakes catch in snowy hair and on snowy eyelashes. Even if he _had_ propositioned you, you couldn’t find anything wrong with saying yes. Dante may have been the most suave dweeb that you’d met in your entire life but he was the most _attractive_ on top of it. You managed your own smirk. Your own confident wink. “It could be fun.”


End file.
